Hot Fun At The Coliseum
OK let’s start with the heat. Holy guacamole it was hot at the Coliseum. It was High-Holidays-In-Tarzana hot. My knees were sweating before the Chili Peppers left the stage. Not a good sign.
Let’s continue with this biblical sea of sweaty wandering nomads, roaming the narrow Coliseum concourse in search for water, rations, and shelter, only to find interminable concession lines, limited shade, and as a reward at the end of your journey, a heated plastic folding seat built 50 years ago. Getting to your seat was like driving on the 405 at 5PM, but if instead of a northbound side and a southbound side, there was just one side, and the 1, 3 & 5 lanes headed north, while lanes 2 & 4 headed south, and then switched directions at random.
Sea of hell.
Speaking of wandering nomads, the venue was at least 1/3 Seahawks fans. I got the sense that these people were not from the Emerald City, though I think I saw one vaping. My guess is they were mostly Angelinos who jumped on the Seattle bandwagon when Carroll left SC and turned them into a Super Bowl champion. To the right of us were a couple Seattle-esque hipsters who, despite the aforementioned climate, were proudly wearing their retro 80s Seahawks satin Starter puffy jackets and sipping on Bud Lights. The Mudhoney show is over, kiddies, head back north. About 3 rows in front of us was a couple in their 50s wearing their Seahawks jerseys and sipping booze out of a phony sunscreen container. I’m typically a smoke-em-if-you’ve-got-em kinda guy, drink what you wanna drink. But the idea of drinking hard alcohol in this war of attrition disguised as a football game seemed absolutely pointless. When Moses led our people out of Egypt, no A/C or nothin’, was he passing around a plastic flask of Jack Daniels en route to the promised land? I don’t recall reading about it in my torah portion.
Hopefully I’m painting a clear enough picture of the environment, but I’ll give you one more anecdote to further illustrate it. At the 2 minute warning in the second quarter, with my newly re-beloved Los Angeles Rams holding a commanding 6–3 lead, my son and I headed to try to “beat the crowd” to the concessions to buy water for our crew. At the same moment, the booze sipping Hawks fan in front of us left to do the same. It took about 8 minutes just to walk from our seats, through the rotting tunnel to the antequated concourse. Then we get to the concessions, but there were so many people already waiting on line, the line had a line. We weren’t in the main roped off part of it. On top of that, all of the 405-esque anarchy I described earlier is happening in the same realm, with people weaving in and out of the line to move around. So in addition to being dehydrated and agitated, I was in a constant state of “that motherfcuker better not be cutting in front of me!!!” the entire time. Then I glanced over at the 12" tube TV monitor the Coliseum so graciously provided its patrons, only to see the broadcasters coming back from break. Halftime over. We’re closer to our seats than to hydration. My son and I looked at each other and headed back to the seats emptyhanded so we wouldn’t miss the third quarter. The boozehound who left at the same time returned to his seat at the start of the 4th quarter. Basically took him an hour to buy a bottle of water. My first thought: HA! you missed a quarter of the game you idiot! My second thought: It’s the start of the 4th, score is 9–3. He missed nothing, and at least he’s attempting to stave off his hangover. I got nothin’.
If I told you you could experience this war on sanity, a 7 hour excursion in all (we left at 10:30AM, got home at 5:30PM) all in exchange for FOUR FIELD GOALS OF SCORING, would that be something you’d be interested in? Probably not. But when the game came down to the wire we were treated to about 3 minutes of excitement that reminded me why I wanted the NFL to return to LA so bad. We were standing in the middle of the apocalypse, but it was our apocalypse, and when the Rams hung on for victory, my son’s scream of exuberance said it all — welcome home, Los Angeles Rams.
This play sealed the W.